


Let no man write my epitaph

by Sadhippie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x04, Angry Sansa Stark, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Period-Typical Sexism, Queen in the North, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, not Dany friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadhippie/pseuds/Sadhippie
Summary: “Enough, Sansa!”Yes, it was quite enough.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark (implied)
Comments: 173
Kudos: 519





	1. Chapter 1

"- will honor their allegiance to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." he seethed. _Enough, Sansa! _was all she heard. Not for the first time._ “And how should I be smarter, by listening to you?” _Still rang on her ears. Such pleasure he took from humiliating her.

She controlled her face into passivity. Smoothed her anger down. Let him speak his foolish words. Come up with his disastrous plans. Let him appease the hunger for power of that woman. Let the Targaryen queen bark her irrational orders with her never-ending smirks of someone who thought themselves smarter than they were. Let her counselors do little more than agree with her for fear of being burned. Let them all doom themselves to death. They had survived the long night. There was only one dragon left. Sansa had the three-eyed raven on her side. The north had had enough. She had had enough. It was enough.

Her heart was beating so loudly. She was so angry. She was furious. She had never felt this insulted. She had had enough. Of how he demeaned her. How he disrespected her. How he gave away her home. The home she had been beaten, bruised and raped for. This foolish king. This idiot of a brother. This useless of a man. The man she had saved. The man she had made a king. The man who _couldn’t be bothered_ to listen to her.

Arya could hear her blood boil. Sansa was sure of it and when she stepped in front of the door so he couldn't leave, so he couldn’t trail behind his queen, Sansa made her choice.

Though she was shaking from emotions she could not name, her voice was smooth. Her voice was clear. Her voice was deadly.

"You are not my master. You are not my lord. _I_ am the Lady of Winterfell. And the next time you speak to me like that - will be the _last time_ you will be allowed in these halls. When and if you return, you will show me the respect and deference you so _eagerly_ give that woman. Am I being sufficiently clear?" A guest in her halls and nothing more. That was all he was now. She was done.

He was dumbfounded. But then again, he always was.

He snorted. "Sansa, you can't -" He paused. “Might I remind you that I am the Warden of the North?” She clenched her jaw. A meaningless title. Useless even when given by a king sitting on the iron throne. Jaime Lannister was the warden of the east. Jon could go and look for the people who cared. _Might I remind you that you would be dead without me?_

Jon commanded the northern armies because Sansa willed it so. No one in the North held love from him since he came back from the south and the knights of the vale answered to her. Whatever power he might presume to have was given to him by her. Not his dragon queen.

"You can take the men who manage to agree to go south with you, and not a man more. That is all _I _will _allow_." Her meaning was clear. He had no more power here. He had given it all away to the dragon queen. Sansa refused to give any more of hers to him.

He turned to Arya for support. But her voice was cold. It must have broken his heart, his favorite sister, siding against him. _Good_. He had broken hers. "Was my sister not clear?" He gave them a small nod, but it was enough. "Good. You have permission to leave now," Arya told him sharply, a dagger, to any pride he had left. He walked heavily out of the room refusing to look at her.

As soon as the door closed Sansa collapsed in the ground and wept like she couldn't remember weeping. Her chest convulsing from the strength. Arya patiently holding her in her arms.


	2. let no man say he is tempted of god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been alone in these halls before. But never without Arya. Never without his sister.
> 
> Arya plays her own game of faces with Jon.

"(-) Am I being sufficiently clear? "

He couldn't comprehend what she was saying. This was his home too. He was her king! _Had been_. Had been her king. Back then she had needed him. Back then she would have never spoken to him thus. Back then he had been what Robb once was and she had just needed him. He was loved by her. It was very warm - being loved by her - very noticeable. She would grab his hand so he would pay attention to her. Smile, so he would know she approved. There were no more smiles since he had come back. No more gentle touches. She couldn't just cast him aside now that he had no more use. _She couldn't_.

"Sansa, you can't-" He took a deep breath. "Might I remind you that _I _am the Warden of the North?"

For a moment he wondered if she would laugh. Arya herself furrowed at the notion. What was a warden to the king, he once was? What was a warden of the north to the Lady of Winterfell? A hollow title. Given to him by a throne less queen that didn't even know what it meant. A hollow title, just like her hollow crown.

"You can take the men who manage to agree to go south with you and not a man more. That is all _I_ will _allow._" Her meaning was clear. She had no more faith in him. No more trust. Her face was blank, and her words were sharp. He couldn't understand. Just yesterday they had celebrated the victory against the night king. She had smiled like she used to, in her pretty new dress. Everything was fine the day before.

He turned to Arya, surely, she would say something. Surely, she would understand why they had to repay the Daenerys. The promise he had made. The insanity it was to refuse her. _We can´t fight a war amongst ourselves, _he had told Sansa, he had warned her.

"Was my sister not clear?" Her voice was dangerous when she said. "Good. You have permission to leave now." He had been alone in these halls before. But never without Arya. Never without his sister. He nodded.

Maybe they knew. Maybe Bran had told them already. He was a Targaryen now. And the pack protected itself. He was no longer a part of it. He walked out of the room before they threw him out.

He had been preparing provisions for their journey south. The north's provisions. _Sansa_'s provisions. But they were for few men. Since the Wildings would go back north, he could count by name the men that had agreed to go south with him. Whatever Mormont men were left would follow him. And some Umbers and Karstarks. No more. A joke of an army.

He thought there would be more. That he still held more sway amongst his men. That he still commanded respect. But they deferred to her first. When he gave orders, they looked to her for approval. She was queen here. There was no way to deny it. She had been for quite some time; he just hadn’t realized.

He had no idea how he would explain it to Daenerys, but he found that she hadn't noticed. She was eager to leave. Unbothered by the conditions of her men. He wondered if she even knew how to feed them, did she even care? Sansa would lend no more food to them. That much he knew.

He sighed and looked up to find Arya. Her hands behind her back. Staring down at him, even as he stood taller than her.

"She meant it you know. She meant every word. And even if she does go back on it, trust _that I will _uphold them," she said, carefully. Did he even know her anymore? Did he mean anything to her? Was he just an outsider now?

"Is this all I am to you now? An enemy? A Targaryen," he spat.

She raised a brow, unflinching. "A Targaryen? "

"Rhaegar and Lyanna's bastard, whatever you want to call it."

She furrowed. "Oh." She hadn't known. Well, she knew now. "Is that why you've been treating Sansa like this? Because you think you're better than her now? A bastard but at least a Targaryen one."

"What do you mean woman?! Have you all gone mad."

"_Sansa thinks she's the smarter than anyone_, you said it yourself. In your righteous indignation that she would dare to disagree with you about bending the knee without taking counsel from anyone. You disrespect her in front of that woman. You demean her in councils. You make decisions behind her back. Stupid, reckless decisions behind the Lady of Winterfell's back. Decisions about her own men. Her own land. In her own halls, without her approval. Who do you think you are to make these decisions? Oh, the warden of the north. Yes. The true beacon of power here." Her voice became dangerous then. Toneless and sharp. "If only your queen had known it meant nothing, I wonder, if she would have legitimized you instead. Made _you_ the Lord of Winterfell. Taken Sansa's rights from her. I wonder, if you would have stopped her." She tilted her head to the side. “Tell me Jon - _would you_?"

_Would he?_ What would he have done. He didn't know. He had always wanted it. All his life he had wanted it. And he had taken it, hadn't he. Sansa had won the battle of bastards. Sansa had made them fight it in the first place. Yet, he took it, when they made him king in the north. But she had supported him then! She had smiled! He tried to convince himself she had. That he was right. Had he not been her bastard brother, it would have been right. _Wouldn’t it?_ He had been the Lord Commander and she was just a girl, it made sense then. _Didn’t it?_

"When I came back and you were gone, the lords tried to give Sansa _her_ crown. Not for the first time too, I'm sure. She refused. She trusted you. And yet, I accused her of terrible things. Awful things. Of wanting it all for herself. I was wrong. But I wonder - " the silence was deafening " - if _maybe I should have accused you_."

He was shaking now. Was it the Targaryen blood? Was she right? His hands were shaking.

Arya shook her head slightly and her face seemed to soften all at once. Like a mask had fallen from her face. She was a different person now.

"You are my brother. You will always be my brother. I loved you more than anyone, once. But she is my sister, and I know you love her too, in a different way than mine." She looked at him thoughtfully, knowingly. "But I will not let this go on. I will not stand by it. If you choose to come back, you will start treating her with the respect she is owed. She will never again be humiliated by you. Her judgement doubted by you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, " he said, breathlessly.

Arya disappeared into the crowd.

Had he hurt her that much. Had he humiliated her? Demeaned her? He only wanted to keep her safe. Untouched by ice and fire. Who was he anymore? What had he become. He couldn’t dare think it. He only knew that the pack answered no more to him. They answered to _her_. 

As maybe it should always have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank you all so much for your lovely comments again.  
I wanted to write the conflitcts we should have seen between the starklings this season. I hope you like it.
> 
> About Jon being a Targaryen bastard, I ignored the whole annulement plotline. It makes no sense, and annulling a marriage that has produced living children is simply not done in medieval times (westerosi or not). I will not have Elia disrespected that way. I'm sorry if this bothers anyone.
> 
> The title of the chapter is from the bible.


	3. let no man despise thy youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can forgive a massacre. 
> 
> Not even for family. 
> 
> Not even for love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter of this story. If you expected Jon to be forgiven, I advise you not to read.

"_Kingslanding is no more_," Arya whispered, out of breath, she must have run here, when she heard they had arrived at the outskirts of the former city.

Her face was marked with tears. Her hair covered in ash and her clothes were much the same way. She had such a broken look about her. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was. She looked younger than she had ever seen her.

Sansa thought no more about it and pulled her into the comfort of her arms. "I'm here. You're safe. Nothing will happen to you while I'm here," she promised her softly and held her harder when Arya started to weep. Sansa could not undo what she had been through, but she could offer her this comfort. She was her older sister and she could protect her now.

She sent for hot water for a bath to be brought to her tent. Carefully took Arya's clothes away and bathed her herself. Washed her hair gently, like their mother used to do. While Arya told her of what had happened.

The blood and the ash. The rubble and collapsing buildings. The mother and child that were left behind. Crushed people, dead on the dirt. Burned people, their ashes holding on to each other. Fire and blood. How the bells kept on wringing and there was no mercy to be found.

Bran had already told her some of it. Enough that Sansa had sent ravens to every and any great house still alive in Westeros. And they had come. They all answered her call. Princess Arianne and her dornish army. Her uncle Edmure and whatever of the blackfish army still existed. Lord Hightower and Lady Yara. Robyn and herself. Whomever spoke for their kingdoms was here. And they were ready for the last war.

"Jon killed her." That took her by surprise. "They have him in the cells. "

Sansa took a deep breath. "You know this is out of my hands, don't you Arya? The lords will want retribution. The people will want justice. There is only so much I can do."

She nodded silently. No one can forgive a massacre. Not even for family. Not even for love.

"_You came_," he sighed. His relief was palpable. It made her smile. A small smile. A sad smile. But a smile all the same. No one came for her once, yet here she was. An army at her back.

His hair was long and messy. And she had never seen his beard quite this long. He was disheveled. He was restless. His shoulders were tense, even though his voice was very soft. The last time he spoke so softly to her they had been looking over the north. He had been so gentle then, when he said they had to trust each other. But he hadn't trust her, had he. And now he was in this cell and she could no more save him with just an army.

"I missed you so much Sansa," he told her, his hands holding on to her arms, itching to grab her.

She pulled him into a hug, held him strongly for she knew it would be the last time. Took to memory the feel of his arms around her waist. The beating of his chest against hers. The strength with which he pulled her closer. The earthy smell of him. She took one last deep breath and stepped back.

His face fell as soon as he looked at her. "What's wrong Sansa? The unsullied are leaving, aren't they? For Naath, I heard them say it. Then what's wrong?" He was so confused, Sansa could only take pity in it. The daft King in the North, they would call him if she’d let them.

But then a rush of wind came, and the smell of burnt bodies was unbearable. It gave her balance against her love. "A city of ash, Jon. A massacre I cannot save you from."

He furrowed. "I-I-I killed her, Sansa,” he stammered. “I did it. I did it for you, to keep you safe. She was coming for you and so I killed her!"

She frowned. "For me? Don't you mean for the realm? So, she wouldn't burn any more innocents?"

He shook his head vehemently. "You would never bend. Everyone said so. You were the most powerful person in Westeros, even without a dragon. The north. The vale. The riverlands. She was coming for you. They kept shouting in my ears. So, l stopped her. She was coming for you, so l killed her." He was on his knees in front of her, his eyes were moving franticly as if reliving it." They were dead, what could l do. But she was coming for you." Tears ran down his face.

Sansa nodded slowly. She took a deep breath and cradled his face between her cool hands.

"I know you loved her. And I am sorry you had to kill her Jon. I truly am. But you cannot blame me for it. _I won't have it_. I can't. I have my own sins to bear. I won't bear hers as well. I will not." Her own tears ran down her face.

He shook his head and took her hands in his. "That's not what l meant. You _have_ to understand."

"What Jon? What do l have to understand?" she asked earnestly.

"I did it all for _you_." She shook her head. "To protect you."

She kept shaking her head, tears clouding her sight. All his dismissals. All his contempt. All the times he ignored her. Offended her. Took her place from her. She loved him, with all her might she loved him, but she would not take this from anyone, ever again. Not even him.

"No, Jon. _You just hurt me_. Again. And again. And again. And for what? What was it that anyone gained from that woman? It was her dragon that destroyed a wall that stood for thousands of years. Theon's men that protected Bran long enough so that Arya could kill the Night King. Her armies stopped nothing. Her dragons helped no one. I don't know if you did it for lust, stupidity or desperation, but every time you cast me aside. You ignored my advice. You made awful decisions that you cannot blame anyone else for but your own pride, because you took no ones' counsel. Not mine. Not the northern lords. Not even Arya. No one. But your own stupid pride."

"I know it was a mistake, " he sounded desperate now, "but you had never seen them. You couldn't know. "

"And yet _I believed you_! And yet I _supported you_! Did she? Did anyone? I never saw them, but I trusted you and I protected my people from a threat only you had seen." She only wanted him to understand. "But did you trust _me_ when I named the threat she was? _Did you_, Jon Snow?" He just kept shaking his head refusing to face her. "Answer me! "

"You didn't know her Sansa, how could I... "

She stood abruptly freeing her hands from his grasp.

"It seems I knew her much better than you did. And for all your demands of my trust, you never afforded me the same courtesy. But then again, the men of this family demand much and offer little." Robb always came to mind. How he abandoned her. How father didn't care for her poor lady. She took a deep breath. She deserved more than these honorable men.

"I loved you Jon. After years of not having anyone to love, when I found you, I would have given anything to you. And I did. I delivered Winterfell for us. I made you king. I made you a Stark. I gave you two armies and with more time I would have gotten the riverlands too. I saved your life at least 2 times. I came to Kingslanding with an army at my back, when no one had done the same for me. A place I never wanted to see again. But _you_ betrayed _me_, Jon. More times than I care to name. And I'll never be able to forget, and you don't seem to remember.”

“Sansa…” he whispered in a broken voice. She refused to listen for fear that would be the words that finally broke her.

“Tyrion has been tried and executed for his crimes.” Aiding the Massacre of Kingslanding. The crime of Kinslaying. _Shae_. “They wanted the same for you, but I managed to argue clemency for your role in her demise.” Had kept well-hidden his Targaryen roots so they wouldn’t demand his head. “You’ll go back to the wall, your exiled supervised by the Queen in the North. And maybe, when enough time as passed, I might be able to bring you back to Winterfell, one day.” It was a nearly empty promise she knew. But it was the only thing she could offer him.

She collected her tears and made her way to the door.

“Sansa, no matter what you might think, I… I love you. More than anyone. I love you,” he sounded so earnest, it made her heart ache. A few moons ago those words would have meant everything to her. Would have changed everything. Now it was just another wound she had to bear.

“And I you.” _More than myself, once._ The truth of it hurt more than she ever though it would.

She ignored her tears as she stepped through the door. Made her spine steel and didn't stop. Not for the longest of times. Not until she was back at Winterfell. A crown atop her brow, placed there by her own sister, sitting under the heart tree. Only then, did she allow herself to crumble. _Sansa Stark, you may bend, but you will never break_, she heard in her mother's voice. _The blood of the ladies of Winterfell flows in your veins. _

_The north is you, and the north remembers. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I want to thank you for all your wonderful comments. I wouldn't have written so much if it weren't for you all. I'm sorry I didn't answer each and every one, but they all warmed my heart.
> 
> I made some changes to the end, but Bran is still King, so is Sansa. I just changed some of the lords still alive to govern the regions. Just my personal preference. I did punish Tyrion, that was a personal favor to myself. I hope it doesn't bother anyone too much. 
> 
> I want to apologize if you expected this story to go differently for Jon, but I couldn't write it any other way, it just didn't sound true to me in the direction this story was going. I hope I haven't dissapointed you too much.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Robert Emmet's speech.
> 
> This is my first drabble ever, I just needed to put my frustration somewhere. Please be kind.


End file.
